Dear Lando

𝟸𝟶 ♡ Woman

Woman By Harry Styles

I've run into him more times today than I can count. It's either been awkward eye contact or complete ignorance.

Not a single word was uttered between us.

Yesterday and today, I haven't been able to focus on anything else. My mind is in a distant place, leaving everything around me foggy. In qualifying yesterday, I only managed to secure P9. Max wasn't much better in P7. Good to see it's affecting him as well.

"Azalea?" A couple of knocks on my driver's door sounded before the person continued, "You're needed on the roof to film a video with Max."

Dammit. That is the last thing I would like to be doing right now.

~~~~~~~~

On the roof, Max was sitting on the couch, looking just as uncomfortable as I was.

As I sat on the couch, a healthy distance from him, the people behind the camera started to instruct us on what we would be doing.

"Alright, Max and Azalea. In honor of you two becoming teammates, we will be recreating the first video you two filmed together. Instead of telling us about yourself, you will be quizzing the other one from the questions we prepared. You may start now," one of the media team personnel explained to us.

I looked over to Max and gestured for him to start asking questions, wanting him to break the silence first.

He cleared his throat, picked up one of the cards, and read, "What year did I begin in Formula 1?"

"2015," I said, trying to show some enthusiasm for the fans. Then, I read from one of my cards, "Which driver did I look up to growing up?"

"Ah well, there were two," he emphasized, looking at the camera. "Seb and Nando," he answered, looking at me this time. I nodded in confirmation, maintaining eye contact with him.

I had only ever told him that once; the first time we met.

The game went on for a couple more rounds, exchanging questions and answers. It was very easy for us, considering we are best friends with a small rift at the moment.

"Okay, the last question," I began. I was excited about this question. Maybe it would remind him of what he means to me. "Who is my best friend on the grid?" I asked with a small smile.

"Hmm, I don't know, maybe Norris?" He stared daggers into my eyes as he gave me that answer.

He can't be serious. I gave him a questioning glance in return, and he shrugged his shoulders with a fake smile plastered on his face.

I turned to face him, blocking out everyone else as I quietly yet sternly said to him, "You're being mean."

I then moved away before he could say anything else. Placed my cards on the couch and started heading for the doors.

"Oh Azalea, we weren't finished yet!" one of the media personnel called after me.

"I'm done," I responded before slipping out of sight.

~~~~~~~~~

Red Bull started the race in bad spots, and it looks like they were ending in them too. Both Max and I were in mid-field, fighting to move up a few spots.

There were only a few laps left, but Gasly was in front of me and out of DRS range. I chased as hard as I could but couldn't manage a pass.

My mind was foggy and dull. I tried so hard to snap out of it and focus on the race, but I couldn't drag my mind out of that dark corner it had crawled into. 

The lap numbers went down, and my place in P11 was looking quite secure. Max wasn't much better. Gasly had passed him last lap, bumping him down to P10.

What a team we were.

As I crossed the finish line, I physically sighed into my helmet. Tuned out the final radio from Benito, ready for this day to be over and to climb right back into bed, where I've been living when I haven't been at the track.  

~~~~~~~~

Oh boy, did Christian have some words for us after the race. He had cornered Max and me in the garage, demanding answers on our poor race today.

Neither of us wanted to cough up the reason for our bad race, but boy was I frustrated with Max. "Ask him," I grumbled as I gestured my head at him.

"Me?" Max spoke up, turning his attention to me. "You did just as bad," he shot out.

"And why is that, Max?" I shot back.

"Don't blame this on me," he pointed a finger at me as his tone turned cold.

Christian looked at us incredulously, as if his two angel children were going to war with each other. 

"Isn't that what it is, though? You can't use your words to tell me why you're mad at me, but you sure can use them to defend yourself against something that is your fault," I coldly bit back.

"Look, I don't have time to deal with your guys' nonsense," Christian cut in, shaking his head. "Fix this," he snapped before storming off.

I scoffed and stormed off as well. Angry tears slid down my cheeks and blinded my vision. 

I stormed right out of the Red Bull garage and right over to the McLaren ones.

Upon entering, I saw who I was looking for, just standing there. So I grabbed him by the arm, and said, "Come on, Lan."

I dragged Lando into his driver's room, needing a break from the tension in the Red Bull garage. He looked at me, curious yet understanding, as I closed the door behind us.

"What's going on, Az?" Lando asked concern etched across his face.

I sighed, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on me. "Max and I had to film a video today and you can only imagine how that went, plus that great race we just put on. Today has been a mess, and I just needed to step away."

Lando nodded and stepped closer to me, putting my face into his chest. He started running his hand through my hair as he comfortably embraced me. 

I managed a half-smile, appreciating his presence. 

As we stood there in the quiet of the driver's room, the sound of distant cheers from the paddock outside seeped through the walls. The intensity of the day lingered, but for a moment, the air in Lando's space felt lighter.